


An Anthropologist’s Perspective

by SophieHatter



Series: Merry Ficmas 2018 [3]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, F/M, First Kiss, Merry Ficmas 2018
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 13:48:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16811851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophieHatter/pseuds/SophieHatter
Summary: She felt him regarding her for a moment. “This is, what, the second SGC Christmas Party we’ve been Earthside for?” Jack pondered.





	An Anthropologist’s Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crowdedangels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crowdedangels/gifts).



> Special request for CrowdedAngels:
> 
> Platonic 'Merry Christmas' hug but his sleeve/watch/bracelet gets caught in her hair, and to untangle it he basically has to hug her closer and her lips are on his neck and *moment*?
> 
> —-
> 
> Moment would be an understatement. As would be ‘that escalated quickly’.

This was pretty, Sam mused, regarding the lights and decorations with a detached eye. And fitting, that General Hammond’s retirement party was something more than just speeches in the mess and drinks at O’Malley’s. The Academy’s reception room was lushly decorated for Christmas and some smart bod at the SGC, probably not General O’Neill, had thought to combine the SGC Christmas Party and the farewell.

The way the lights sparkled through the windows onto the stone of the portico was particularly enchanting, she thought. Hands braced against the railing, she let her eyes move over the crowd of personnel and their plus ones who were milling inside - drinking, talking and even dancing. General Hammond was waltzing with someone she couldn’t identify from where she was, and he had been joined by a number of couples - among them Sly and his wife, Daniel and the linguist from SG-12 and Walter with a civilian she’d never seen before.

As she tried to work out from the body language if Walter’s partner was a date, a friend or a colleague, a familiar scent assailed her, followed by a familiar voice.

“Not having a good time, Carter?” General O’Neill asked, indicating the party inside with a sweep of his hand.

“There’s more than one way to enjoy a party, Sir.”

She felt him regarding her for a moment. “This is, what, the second SGC Christmas Party we’ve been Earthside for?” Jack pondered.

Nodding, she shuffled her stance a little straighter. She never could let go that he was her CO and now a General, too. “I suppose all our missions to meet new cultures have left me with an anthropologist’s perspective for social customs, Sir.”

That made the General laugh, one of his hearty, surprised snorts of merriment. She liked it when he laughed like that. Missed it, too, now that he was no longer leading their team. A warm aura settled into her chest and she relaxed a little.

“You don’t want to dance?” Jack asked, his voice soft and, somehow, more intimate.

Casting a small sideways glance, she saw that his eyes were fixed straight ahead, regarding the couples on the dance floor. It could just be small talk, passing the time with a colleague. It could even be a question of friendly concern, an offer to fulfil a social need from from a well meaning, at arms length, team mate.

But she heard more in it.

Eight years of small talk. Eight years of friendly support from a team mate. Eight years of sidestepping moments like this, moments that would take them past colleague, past team mate, past Air Force officers and to a place that was more.

“I’m content to watch tonight, Sir.” And there it was, the reminder of their places in this structure, of the lines they must not move past.

“Could be your last chance, Carter,” Jack cajoled. They both knew that was as far as he would press the issue. A simple ‘no’ and they would go on as they had been before and another year would pass them by.

“I’m applying for the position at Groom Lake,” she suddenly burst out. Sam surprised herself, but he would know soon enough. The application was already on his desk, she’d left it there before going home to change.

His shoulders tensed, just for a moment, and just about anyone who wasn’t a member of SG-1 would have missed it. “I thought you might,” Jack spoke with an evenness that betrayed no opinion at all, yet said everything he was thinking. “You’d give up Gate travel?”

“It wouldn’t be out of the question,” she pointed out, “Just less often. I need to broaden my experience.”

General O’Neill nodded, he’d counselled her in that direction himself. There was no reason to think that this wasn’t exactly what it appeared to be - a rising star in the Air Force rotating through commands in preparation for being awarded the rank of General. Everyone knew that was what Samantha Carter was destined for. She even deserved it, unlike him. “The position is empty. You could be there before Christmas. I can’t imagine that they’d choose any other candidate over you.”

“I know,” Sam replied. There was a long silence and then she said, “You’re leaving, too.”

He tried not to react to the reproach he thought he heard in her tone. “I know,” he echoed. The unvoiced _I had no choice_ hung between them.

She was torn between fear and recklessness. If not now, then when would they ever speak of it? But if they did, would that unlock the floodgates, unleash the long dammed emotions they both forcefully kept at bay?

Sam took a steadying breath. “I’ll miss you,” she paused, hoping he would understand her meaning, “Sir.”

The General turned halfway towards her, hesitated, and then completed the move, his arms sliding around Sam’s shoulders. He pulled her in tight and, hoping the dim lighting in the portico would hide it, pressed his cheek to her hair. With a sigh, Sam leant into his strength, her arms going around his waist.

“I’ll miss you, too.” _Hold on. Hold on, our time will come_.

They held the embrace for longer than was strictly necessary. With the wordless sense that each had for the other, they let go at the same time.

“Ow.”

“Hey.”

Their quiet exclamations collided as Jack froze his arm and Sam made her neck rigid.

“It’s my button,” he murmured, seeing where it had caught in the bun at the nape of her neck. She’d been short haired for so long that he wasn’t even aware of this potential complication of contact. “Hold still.”

“Holding still,” Sam confirmed, hoping that now wouldn’t be the moment that someone would come looking for one of them.

Putting his other arm back around her shoulders, he tried to feel which way her hair was caught on the button.

“I can ...” Sam went to move, to raise her hands to help.

Jack’s free arm immediately pressed her to him. “Don’t,” he commanded her, “I think I’ve ...”

Impatient, Sam closed her eyes. They’d been in enough similar off world scrapes that this shouldn’t bother her, but here, in uniform, the cold star on his shoulder pressing in to her cheek when she’d been so carefully trying to keep the line where it should be ... She let out a slow breath, trying to ease her heart rate.

Mistake. Her General’s body tensed. “Sam.” It was the merest sound, floated on a breath, but her name dripped with longing and need and intimacy and warning.

Opening her eyes, she saw what she had forgotten, that her mouth was just an inch from his neck. She could make out the freshly trimmed hairs on his nape, the sweet soft curve of his ear lobe and the slowly flushing skin rising from his shirt collar.

And the scent. The way he smelled. Soap and warm wool, starch and essence of Jack. Everything, everything that was him, that spoke to her of service and compassion, leadership and strength. And love. Selfless and uncompromising love for his job, for his people, his team. For her.

“Jack.” It pained her, that she couldn’t tell him what he meant to her and so she moved the inch closer and pressed her lips to his skin, feather light, pressing into the place just under his jaw. She felt him shiver and then swallow, his heart beat thudded under her touch.

His hand on her shoulder tightened, pulling her closer, his lips returning her kiss against the shell of her ear. “Oh, Sam.”

She could cry. She would cry, later, when she was alone. When it was safely hidden from him, from the people around them who were like family. The people who would both celebrate this long longed for moment and who would speculate about when and where and how if either Colonel Carter or General O’Neill gave any of them even a hint of finally expressed intentions.

They held it a heartbeat more and then he pulled away, an exclamation of surprise, or was it relief?, as he pulled free of her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. And he was, she was sure. Sorry that, once again, they had to walk away before the flames they carried for each other became a conflagration that burned them both to the ground, with only ashes left.

She had no words to respond with and so he had to be satisfied with the look she gave him. Longing that was then slowly buried under acceptance of his lead.

He turned back to the reception room, then seemed to hesitate. Her heart jumped into her throat, but then he completed the turn and began to make his way through the party goers.

Sam retreated then. She wasn’t proud of it, but she needed a minute, and so she walked to the farthest corner of the portico and stood alone in the darkness, trying to get a hold of herself.

A few minutes later, she wasn’t sure how long, her phone buzzed. She reached in her pocket, and opened it to see the text message. From her CO.

_Application for transfer approved._

Well, ok then. He wasn’t going to hold her back. The phone buzzed again.

_If you go to GL before Christmas, we could have a Christmas wedding._

Her hands shook, her mind refused to comprehend. _What???_ She texted back, heart thundering in her ears as she waited for a reply.

_There’s a five week window._

_For a wedding?!?!_ She typed, hands shaking.

_I love you. Will you marry me?_

Shit. He was serious.

_Can’t be official until you go to GL, but we could make plans, anyway._

Dumbfounded, she stared at the words on the screen, her pulse thundering in her ears, her breath short. The oxygen shortage was beginning to make her feel dizzy. Then there was a hand on her elbow and she looked up.

“Well?” Jack asked. And screw him he was grinning from ear to fucking ear.

“I love you,” Sam choked out, tears threatening again.

“I know.” His smile softened and she was aware of the weight of the warmth and tenderness he felt for her. And then he leaned in and his lips were on hers and - oh god - he was warm and arousing and Jack.

He broke away before she actually passed out from oxygen deprivation and his thumb stroked her forearm through the serge. “Is that a yes?” And it was Jack asking and his expression was so vulnerable that she wished she could rip her heart out and give it to him, then and there, to prove the truth of the words she was going to say.

“Yes. Always.”


End file.
